The Sworn Shield
by WatchHeart7076
Summary: Sandor is hired as Sansa's pseudo-sworn shield. He eventually gets bought by the Lannisters to guard the king. However, he's developed a small soft spot for his former charge and does his best to watch over her as well. Sansa, on the other hand, is rather devastated at the lost of her sworn shield and believes that Sandor hates her. Full summary in the first chapter. Sansan AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi!**

 **This is my second Sansan story, and the idea is not totally from me. Let me explain : I watched a video on Youtube about Sansa and Sandor. The title is The Sworn shield and the video was made by harrypfanmcc. The video and the music are amazing, you should really check it out, and it would help you to picture the story. Here's the link : /watch?v=3zV4y5v9tvU**

 **Here's the summary from her : Sandor is hired as Sansa's pseudo-sworn shield. He's a rather unscrupulous, angry man who follows money more than honour or devotion, so he eventually gets bought by the Lannisters to guard the king. However, he's developed a small soft spot for his former charge and does his best to watch over her as well-Sansa, on the other hand, is rather devastated at the lost of her sworn shield and believes that Sandor hates her.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **The Sworn Shield**

 **Chapter 1**

 _ **Ned**_

A few weeks ago, Ned received a raven wearing House Tallhart's sigil. It was an invitation by Helman Tallhart to witness a tourney at Torrhen's Square. When he agreed to go and was about to send the raven, Cat dryly reminded him of his eldest daughter's coming nameday. Sansa would turn thirteen soon, and Ned couldn't miss that. He promised his wife he would be back for the celebration.

Also, Ned hoped the tourney would help him find a great knight to protect his daughter.

Sansa badly needed a sworn shield to protect her and watch her when he was too busy to do it himself. Sansa had grown up a lot, and was very tall for a girl of her age. And, other… things had grown. Ned could see his men looking more intently at his daughter now, and he had even heard a man speaking of her like if she was a common whore from the lowest brothel in Winter Town. She was a child, for Gods' sake! Of course, the man lost his tongue and fingers for this.

So here he was now at Torrhen's Square, patiently waiting for the tourney to begin. Helman Tallhart was sitting by his side, sharing wine with him, and laughing while telling stories from the past. Finally, the tourney began, and the knights prepared to joust.

A few minutes later, Ned noticed a big and tall man, wearing a helmet which was looking like a snarling dog. He seemed very muscular with broad shoulders and strong arms. The big black stallion he was mounting looked fierce, and he was trying to bite every other horses that were passing near him.

Behind the imposing horse was standing a squire holding a flag on which there was three dogs on a yellow field. House Clegane. Ned froze and frowned. He had already heard about Gregor Clegane, more often called "the Mountain," but couldn't understand the reason of his presence, here. He thought the knight was at Casterly Rock.

Ned leaned closer to Ser Helman.

"What is the Mountain doing here?"

Helman seemed scandalized.

"Are you mad?! Do you really think I would invite Tywin Lannister's mad dog here? I don't want my daughter to get raped."

Ned was confused, and pointed at the tall man.

"Who is it, then?"

"Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Gregor's little brother," he explained.

" _Little_ is not the appropriate term," mumbled Ned.

Helman barked a laugh. "You're right! He is quite a big man, eh? A great warrior, too."

"Why "Hound?"" asked Ned. "Because of the dogs on his sigil?"

"Not only. His loyalty matches a dog's. You won't find a more loyal man than Sandor Clegane. Even your most trusted man couldn't match his loyalty. But, you have to pay him very handsomely if you want his services. Nearly took all the gold I had, the bloody bastard. I paid him to be my champion, today. I bet a lot of gold that he will win. I hope he won't fail me."

 _I doubt that,_ thought Ned as he watched the Hound ride his black beast to the extremity of the jousting area. With no surprise, he won, and got to the next and last round: Sword fight.

Again, the Hound defeated them all with surprising speed for a man his size, and a lot of strength. The whole time he was fighting, Ned couldn't stop watching the big man in action, and couldn't help but feel sorry about his adversaries. They all seemed so small, and they had no chance against the Hound's fury. That's something else Ned noticed: The Hound seemed angry while he was fighting, as if his life was truly threatened.

 _Interesting._

Another important thing was that the Hound could fight with all kind of weapons. The sword was obviously his favorite, but he could easily handle an axe, a spear or a mace. He had even defeated one of his opponents with his bare hands! During the fight, the Hound lose his sword in a moment of inattention, and everybody thought he would yield. It never happened. He grabbed his opponent's sword with one hand, not caring about the blade cutting inside his palm, and punched the man hard on the jaw, knocking him down, unconscious.

How could someone possess so much strength? Ned wondered.

Ned had already made up his mind. The Hound would become Sansa's sworn shield. He leaned closer to Ser Helman's ears.

"I would like to meet him. Does it bother you if I go and speak with him?"

"Oh, no, it doesn't bother me at all. You may go. I will stay here and get the gold all these losers owe me," he chuckled, waving his hand in a large movement towards the lords in front of him, who threw him angry looks.

For the tourney, tents had been placed for the knights to change and rest. Ned got up and walked towards those tents, trying to find the Hound's one. It wasn't hard. It was the only one that the opening was closed. The squire outside was sitting on the ground, the flag lying beside him. When he noticed someone approaching, the boy stood up and walked in front of the tent.

"'Sorry, m'lord, but da Hound doesn' wan' anyone near his tent."

"I need to speak to him."

"Who is it, Trey?" rasped a voice from inside.

"Who are ya?"

"Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

Trey repeated the words out loud so the Hound could hear. He grumbled something, and then Trey pulled the flap aside and motioned Ned to get in.

The Hound was standing in a corner of the tent, a rag in his hand, cleaning his neck and shoulders. His back was facing Ned, so he couldn't see his face. The Hound had a muscular back and multiple scars crisscrossing his skin. He had dark hairs covering his arms, and calloused large hands.

His hair was black, and it was almost touching his shoulders. When he turned around to face him, Ned had to contain a gasp.

The right side of the Hound's face wore terrible burns, and he had a hole where his ears was supposed to be. His steel grey eyes were looking hard at Ned.

"Lord Stark. To what do I owe the _pleasure_ of your visit?" said the Hound without trying to hide his sarcasm.

Ned cleared his throat and, seeing a chair near him, he sat down and invited the man to sit in front of him. Sandor grunted, but sat down nonetheless. Ned tried to avoid as much as he could Sandor's face, looking him right in the eyes.

"I would like to speak with you."

"That's what you're doing. Get to the fucking point, and be quick about it. I don't have all day. What do you want?"

"My daughter will turn thirteen soon, and she needs a sworn shield. I watched you fight and I think you would be a good choice to protect her."

"You want my monstrous face near your little lady of a daughter? What an _honor_!" Sandor spat on the ground. "I don't give a fuck about how old she is, or what she needs-"

Ned cut him. "I will pay you."

Sandor's eyes flashed with interest and he straightened up.

"How much?"

"A pouch each month."

"A pouch each week."

"Listen, Ser, I-"

"I am no ser," growled Sandor. "I took no vows and I am not a bloody knight. Tell me, _Lord Stark_ ," he said, leaning forward. "How precious your daughter's life is to you?"

Ned sighed. "A pouch every two weeks, then."

Sandor smirked. "I think we have an agreement. When do I start?"

"We leave for Winterfell tomorrow at first light. I'll wait for you near the stables."

Sandor nodded, and they shook hands. When he got out of the tent, Ned wondered if he had made a mistake. He wondered how that _no-ser_ would do around his delicate daughter. He thought about going back and annul everything when he remembered Helman's words: _You won't find a more loyal man than Sandor Clegane. Even your most trusted man couldn't match his loyalty._

Ned hoped he was right.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi there!**_

 _ **A big thanks to the ones who took the time to leave a review, and who favorited/followed my story.**_

 _ **I finally finished writing chapter 2. I realized that it's very difficult for me to write from a girl's POV (And I am a girl... wtf?!) I've changed my mind many times before coming with a chapter from Sandor's POV. I hope you'll like it :)**_

 _ **English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes!**_

 _ **Enjoy :)**_

* * *

 **The Sworn Shield**

 **Chapter 2**

 _ **Sandor**_

Sitting atop Stranger's back, Sandor was shivering from the cold and inwardly cursing himself for his earlier foolishness. He was only wearing his armour, which offered no protection against the cold. This morning, before their departure, Lord Stark offered him a black fur coat. He had declined, thinking he would be fine.

Now he was freezing, and too proud to ask for that damned coat. They had ridden all day and Winterfell, though not very far away from Torren's Square, was further in the North, and it was noticeable. It was colder and, in the afternoon, it had started to snow. At one point, Sandor had to stop and wrap cloths around Stranger's legs so he wouldn't suffer too much from the cold snow he was walking in.

Sandor glanced behind him. His squire, Trey, was riding his brown mare, wrapped in several furs. For this, the boy had been smarter than him.

Grunting, Sandor turned around and saw Eddard Stark looking at him with a smirk. He slowed his pace until Sandor was riding right beside him. Wordlessly, he took out a dark fur and handed it to him. Sandor impassively took it.

"No need to thank me, Clegane," teased Ned. "I just don't want that my daughter's sworn shield freezes to death before having the time to do his job."

Sandor didn't reply and only stared in the distance, showing his burns to the Lord of Winterfell.

"You're not very talkative, aren't you?"

"I don't talk if there's nothing to say."

Ned nodded, his gaze becoming absent as if he was deep in thought.

"May I know how did you get those burns?"

Sandor's head snapped up and he stared hard at Ned.

"I don't want to talk about it," he rasped, averting his eyes once more.

"Why?"

"Because I would have to lie to you, or to kill you. And I am not a liar."

"But you are a killer." It was not a question.

"If you want to keep your head on your shoulders, stop asking me questions about my past," growled Sandor, using his most threatening tone.

But, to his surprise, Ned didn't looked afraid. It was even quite the contrary from the huge smile on his face. Ned relaxed on his saddle, chuckling low.

"Your rough manners and tongue are refreshing, really," began Ned. "It's been a long time since someone hadn't talk to me like this. They are all so polite and careful. The only persons who ever threatened me were my wife, Robert, and my enemies. Well, these ones didn't really had the time to threaten me. They were dead before they could manage to do so."

Sandor couldn't help but chuckle too, knowing too well what Ned was talking about. He knew that Lord Stark had fought with Robert Baratheon during the Rebellion. Sandor had fought during this time too – it was also the time moment he killed his first man -, since he was at Tywin Lannister's service, protecting his cunt of a daughter, Cersei. They paid him good, but the girl was a fucking bitch and had forced her father to send Sandor back to Clegane's keep. The reason was that his ugly face disgusted her too much and she couldn't bear to see it anymore.

It had hurt him a lot. At this time, he was still young, and his burns, though not recent, still bothered him. Angry, he had ridden hard and fast away from the south, but not too far north. He didn't want to go back at Clegane's keep where his brother ruled.

So, he tried to be his own master. But it was too hard, so he decided to offer his services. He had worked hard for many lords to gain money. Instead, he had gained the reputation of a hound. An ugly, dangerous, rabid but loyal, Hound.

A shout brought him back to the present. Blinking several times, Sandor realized that there was a castle standing in the distance. It seems so far away. He also realized how tightly he was gripping the reins, and his knuckles were white.

"We'll reach Winterfell in an hour or so," said Ned. "Lit the torches! It will be dark before we get to the gates."

Sandor frowned. It was still clear enough. Lord Stark was getting old.

"Don't make that face," chuckled Ned. "We're in the north. Here, the days are shorter. Oh, and, even if I enjoy your rough speaking, my wife and my children may not. Be polite when they are close."

* * *

"Open the gates!"

As Lord Eddard guessed, the torches were needed to progress in the dark. Sandor had dismounted, and was leading his horse by the reins.

Ned dismounted and an old man came to him. Ned nodded before walking to Sandor.

"It seems that my daughter is already sleeping. You'll start only tomorrow, then. At first light, I want you in front of my daughter's door, and you'll present yourself. You'll escort her to the dining hall where we will break our fast together. I've asked her handmaid to tell her first, so she won't be too surprise when seeing your… you."

"My monstrous face," grunted Sandor.

Ned pursed his lips together. "I'm sorry, Clegane, I didn't meant…"

"Don't lie to me, Lord Stark. I hate liars."

It was then that the old man he had seen earlier came to them. He was bald, with a long woolen robe and he was wearing heavy chains. _A maester._

"Maester Luwin. May I introduce you to Sansa's new sworn shield? Sandor Clegane."

They both shook hands, nodding at each other.

"Maester Luwin, could you lead Clegane to his room? It's right beside Sansa's."

The maester bowed. "As you wish, my lord. Please, follow me, ser."

Sandor grunted a low "not a ser" before following the maester, asking Trey to bring their horses to the stables and find a place to sleep.

As they were walking in the corridors, they finally reached a heavy wooden door. The maester stopped and pointed it.

"Here is Lady Sansa's room. And here," he added, pointing a similar door a few inches from the first one. "Here is your room. Your squire will sleep in a room near the kitchens, and…"

The maester was cut by the door opening, and a sweet voice speaking.

"Maester Luwin? I heard voice and I was wondering… Oh!"

Sandor froze. In front of him was standing a young woman with red hair and blue eyes – a bright blue he had rarely seen -, wearing a thin white night gown. She had a pale skin and delicate curves. Her face, even if twisted in horror and uncontained fear, was pretty.

The maester stepped forward and took her hand, trying to calm her.

"Lady Sansa, you have no need to fear him. He is to be your sworn shield."

Sandor then realized his error. _Not a young woman. A child. The child I am supposed to guard and protect._ And she was afraid of him. _A good way to start._

When he stepped forward, the girl took a step back. Sandor's hands clenched into tight fists.

"Seven hells, girl! – She jumped at his exclamation - I am to protect you, not hurt you. I may be ugly, but I don't fancy on hurting little girls. I am not my brother."

Turning away angrily, Sandor pushed the heavy door of his room and stepped in.

"Ser, I…" the girl tried.

"Not a bloody ser," Sandor growled before slapping the door behind him.

* * *

 ** _A good way to start, indeed x)_**

 ** _Don't forget to leave a review :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello!**_

 _ **A Sandor's POV chapter again, I hope you still like it. Thanks to the reviewers/followers/favoriters!**_

 _ **English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes :$**_

 _ **Enjoy :)**_

* * *

 **The Sworn Shield**

 **Chapter 3**

 _ **Sandor**_

It's been a month since he first arrived in Winterfell. In a month, he'd learned a lot about his charge. First, she was afraid of absolutely everything, but not of him it seems. And it was something he couldn't understand. Second, she was stupid. She thought life was a bloody song, and she was always giggling with her stupid friends who thought the same. They were looking at some stupid knights, and blushing every time they earned a smile or a nod.

Sandor also felt like he was paid to do nothing. The girl was not hard to protect. When she was sewing, he was allow to fight with soldiers in the training yard, take Stranger out for a ride, and even drink. At first, the girl wrinkled her nose at the smell when he would come back almost drunk. Now she was used to it, and only sighed deeply before walking away, he following a step behind her.

After a few days, Sandor had taken the habit to call her little bird. Because she was like an annoying bird, chirping her courtesies and empty words that her septa taught her. It was making him angry and bark at her. When it was happening, she would only look away and became quiet. He had started to feel something he'd never felt before: Guilt. He would always sigh and tell her something he hoped would make her smile.

He felt like a fool when it happened, because he had never done so, before. Never had he felt guilty for anything. Now, here she was with her big blue eyes shining with contained tears when he went too far and hurt her in her feelings. That damned guilt wouldn't go away. Not until he managed to bring a small smile on her pretty face.

Yes, he had to admit, the girl was pretty. Sometimes, he had to get a hold of himself and remember that she was a child, and that he was only supposed to protect her. It was hard to think about her as a child. She was very tall for a girl of three and ten, and she already had womanly curves. She'll probably have her first moonblood soon, and thus, become a woman.

On the little bird's nameday, he finally understood why Lord Stark needed a sworn shield for his daughter. Sandor wasn't the only one to find her pretty. That day, she wasn't only pretty, she was _beautiful_. Her hair was braided, and winter roses had been stuck in it, her blue gown accentuated the blue of her eyes, and the neck of the dress was slightly open, showing the top of her growing breast. A lot of men were looking at her as if she was a goddess… or a delicious piece of meat.

Since that day, Sandor decided to be more serious in his work, and took the habit, in the training yard, to beat harder than the others every men who looked at her too much to his liking.

Which means almost all of them.

* * *

Sandor was awoken by a shy knock on his door. He looked confusedly around him, realizing that it was still dark outside. Grunting, he got up, put his breeches on and went to the door and opened it.

Sansa was standing in front of him, her face becoming red at the sight of his naked chest. She was dressed in riding clothes, he realized.

"What are you doing here, little bird?"

"Shh! Don't speak too loud," she whispered hastily. "I would like to go for a ride to see the sunrise. I was wondering if you would like to come with me."

Sandor sighed heavily. "Even if I wouldn't want to, I _have_ to."

Sansa lowered her eyes and wrung her hands. "If you don't want to go, I won't force you. I'm sorry. I will go back to my chamber." Disappointment was clear in her tone.

Sandor pinched the bridge of his nose. She was about to turn away, when he stopped her by gripping her arm.

"Wait. Let me get dressed."

She gave him a huge smile and he went back in his room to dress.

* * *

Like it was still dark in the hallway, Sansa took a torch. She held it as far as she could from Sandor's face, and he was grateful to her for that. They got easily outside of the castle. They crossed the training yard, and made their way to the stables.

In his box, Stranger snorted when he felt his master's presence. He turned his head towards Sandor and snorted loudly. Sandor walked to him and saddled him. When he turned around, intending to help the girl, he realized that she was sitting on a wooden bench, watching him.

"What? Why don't you prepare your horse?"

The little bird lowered her gaze, looking ashamed.

"I-I've never done it, before. Also, I am not a very good rider. It was a bad idea. I'll slow us down and the sun will rose before we get out of the gates."

Sandor snorted. "Are you really _that_ bad?"

Sansa bit her lower lip and nodded. Sandor extended his hand towards her.

"Come here. Not too fast, or Stranger will stomp you to death," he warned her.

The girl seemed scandalized for a moment. "You called him Stranger?" she exclaimed. "It's blasphemous!"

"I don't give a fuck if I offended your gods, girl. Get your ass here, or you'll miss your bloody sunrise," he growled, irritated.

Startled by his rough tone, Sansa jumped and walked faster to him. Sandor took the reins firmly and waited Stranger reaction. Curiously, the horse didn't move. He snorted softly and turned his head towards Sansa. She even patted his nose.

 _What the fuck?!_

Sansa smirked. "He is easy to tame, you know. I use to braid Sugar's mane – my mare," she explained. "Her mane is so soft. I like running my fingers in it. Every morning since a while, I come here early in the morning, before sunrise. The first time I saw him, your horse scared me. After a few days, I was used to his behavior, but still afraid. I think animals can feel it when we are scared, so they are scared of us too. I knew he could be tamed. I approached him, one day, as quietly as I could. I spoke softly to him and I fed him. That day, I made myself a new friend."

Sandor only stared hard at her. She had been stupid to get close to his horse without him around. And without his permission. It could've been dangerous. She could've been wrong and lose a finger, an arm – or even her life!

"Your fucking songs, again! You think that everything in this world is good and pure. But, it's not!" he snarled. "Why do you think I called him Stranger? It's a beast that came straight out of the seven hells. He could've kill you, and nobody would've been there to save you, you stupid little bird!"

Sansa looked away, her cheeks reddening and her eyes shining with tears. Sandor wasn't able to feel guilty. He was too angry for this. Never in his life had he seen someone so foolish.

"You didn't received your father's intelligence, that's for sure," he mumbled. "Now, get on that fucking horse so you can see your bloody sunrise."

The girl didn't move. She swayed on her feet, her eyes darting between the saddle and the ground. Sandor was growing impatient.

"What's wrong?"

"I need help to mount a horse."

Sansa's voice wasn't above a whisper and Sandor had to pay close attention to understand. Without warning, he took her by the waist. He heard her gasp when he lifted her and placed her atop Stranger's back. Before mounting behind her, he saw a tear that had fell on her cheek.

Sighing deeply, he took the reins with one hand and encircled her thin waist with his free arm so she wouldn't fall.

"If you want to do something like this again, tell me. I'll help you if I can."

Sansa remained quiet and Sandor clenched his jaw. He rode Stranger out of the stables, then out of the gates and into the Wolfswood. A few minutes later, the sky was getting lighter and he urged his mount forward to find a good spot where his little bird would be able to see her precious sunrise.

Sandor followed the sound of water, only to be rewarded when they got on top of a hill, above a waterfall. From there, they could see the water beginning to shine from the sun's orange light, the morning dew on the grass around them, and Sandor had a full view on Sansa's hair lighting up like a fire.

At this moment, he wished he could see her eyes, for he knew they were even more beautiful with the orange light of the rising sun in them.

It was also at this moment Sandor knew he was fucked.

* * *

 _ **Yeah, Sandor is fucked. I wonder why?! :3**_ _ **In the next chapter : Lannisters are coming. I think it's almost worse than winter xD Whatever, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to leave a review, please :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hi there!**_

 _ **I've finally succeeded at writing a chapter from Sansa's POV. I hope you'll like it.  
**_

 _ **And I know that it can be boring when there's not a lot of interaction between the characters, but it's very important to read every word to understand the end of the chapter. And, there**_ **is _action at the end of the chapter._** **  
**

 ** _English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes._**

 ** _Enjoy :)_**

* * *

 _ **The Sworn Shield**_

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 _ **Sansa**_

The first time she had seen Sandor's face, of course Sansa had been afraid and horrified. The horrible mass of burned flesh was disgusting. Never in her life had she seen something so awful. But, the next morning, she forced herself to apologize to him, for she had seen a glimpse of pain in his eyes when she had shriek at the sight of him.

Quickly, she had come to pity the man, and wondered how he ended up like this. Was it someone who did this to him? Did he get those burns in a battle? She had tried to ask, only to be rebuffed.

She had stopped being scared of him the day she caught her handmaiden speaking ill of him. She was laughing with another, wrinkling her nose and pointing at Sandor. Sansa had seen her sworn shield's fists clenched thightly, but he did nothing, keeping his head raised up and never flinched. She thought him brave for this.

She had also seen hatred in his eyes, but he never showed that hatred towards her. Never. His eyes even soften when he caught her watching him. So she decided she wouldn't fear the man, for she was now sure he would never hurt her, because she would give him no reason to.

But still, he kept barking and snarling like a dog every time she showed him kindness, telling her that she was annoying with her courtesies, her empty words and her pity, and that he wasn't his friend, that everything he did was because he was paid for it.

"If your father wouldn't pay me, I wouldn't be here!" was his favorite phrase.

What a confusing man! He clearly wanted to be accepted and, when she tried to make his wish come true, he pushed her away. Despite all this, she kept trying and hoping. She kept hoping because, each time he was mean with her, she could see his impassive face flinch for a moment, and then he would try to say something nice.

Sansa was aware of the efforts he made to be kind to her, and couldn't understand why he was always angry with her if it made him feel bad, after. But, was he truly feeling bad? Had he come to care for her, in a way? Or did he wanted to make sure that she wouldn't go and tell her father about his despicable behavior, and thus, reducing the weight of his precious purse?

After the day they watched the sunrise in the Wolfswood, Sansa believed their relation would be better. She believed Sandor would become nicer with her, and that a bond was slowly creating between them. When she had confessed about her trying to tame Stranger, she had seen anger in his eyes, but also fear. Fear for her? Or for the money he would have lose if she would've die? She didn't know. Didn't wanted to, either. Well, not if it was the second option.

The next morning, her dreams were shattered. Sandor became more and more distant. He agreed to bring her in the Wolfswood to admire the sun rising again, but he forced her to ride her mare. He refused to get closer to her, and she was confused. He even barked at her more than usual, snarling and pushing her away every time she tried to speak with him about his behavior.

She had been wrong all the time. He hated her. Maybe not as much as he hated the others, because she was kind to him. But still. He didn't like her. Not at all.

 _Maybe he is what Arya uses to describe him like; a nasty and rabid old dog who cares for no one but himself and his evil horse? Well, she is right. That's what he truly is._

* * *

This morning, Sansa decided she wouldn't suffer her sworn shield's fool mood. She slid out of her chamber very quietly, and made her way to the stables, alone. She had planned everything.

It was still dark outside and, in a few minutes, the soldier who guarded the gates would go away for about two minutes before another takes his place. In the meantime, she would be able to get out of the gates unnoticed, and ride to that hill above the waterfall where she would admire her sun rise, with no angry burned man by her side.

It took all her strength to saddle Sugar, and to mount her. She finally succeeded, panting, sweating, and almost crying from her earlier frustration at not being able to do something by herself other than sewing and singing. Taking the reins with trembling hands, a knot in her stomach, she rode her mare out of the stables and to the gates.

She saw the soldier walking away from the gates, seeking the one who would take his place. It was the time.

Urging her mount forward, she got out of the gates and rode fast into the Wolfswood. Once hidden by the trees, she slowed down and looked around her, slightly afraid. The sun would rise soon, and it was still a bit dark in the forest.

A few minutes later, she realized that she couldn't find the waterfall. She was confused and unsure how to find her way back to the castle. It had been a stupid idea, and she had to go home. Tears were forming in her eyes, and she choked out a sob. It was then that she heard it. The sound of hundreds of hooves.

Panic rose in her and she turned around, attending to run away. Before she could manage to do so, several soldiers appeared in front of her, and surrounded her. Sansa gasped and clutched the reins. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her ears as waves of fear were crashing on her.

Without a word, a knight came to her side and took the reins from her. He took off his helm, and she gasped again.

He looked like a true handsome knight in shining armour from the songs, with his golden hair flowing in the wind and his intense green eyes. With his white cloak and his appearance, Sansa couldn't be mistaken. Ser Jaime Lannister, also known as the Kingslayer, was standing beside her, holding her mare's reins, and smirking at her.

Before she could say anything, a tall and beautiful woman walked in front of her. She had golden hair and green eyes, like Ser Jaime. _Cersei Baratheon. The Queen._

Sansa bowed her head carefully.

"Your Grace."

"Who are you?" the Queen snapped, not at all impressed.

"Sansa Stark, your Grace," she answered with a shaky voice.

"Sansa Stark. Eddard Stark's daughter?"

"Yes, your Grace," Sansa answered, still bowing.

"Raise your head," the Queen commanded. "I want to see your face."

"Sansa!"

Sansa's head snapped up. Behind the soldiers, her father was on top of his horse, a few men following behind. And, with them, her sworn shield. And he looked angrier than ever. Unable to hold his gaze, nor her father's, Sansa blushed and averted her eyes. Her lower lip quivered, and a tear of shame rolled on her cheek.

Ned went to Sansa's side, and snatched the reins from Ser Jaime's hands.

"Your Grace," he began. "I received your crow last night. I was on my way to meet you on the Kingsroad, when I learned my daughter's disappearance."

"Everything's fine, Lord Stark. You've found us, and you've found your daughter. I'll go back on the road, before the King gets angry. You may go, and announce our arrival."

Ned nodded and waited until the white cloaks were out of sight. Once it was done, he turned to his daughter. He dismounted, and walked angrily to her. He bid her to dismount too, and she did, her whole body trembling.

When her feet were on the ground, Ned grabbed her face and pull her closer to him.

"What were you thinking, Sansa!" he shouted.

Sansa jumped at her father's cry. He had never yelled at her, before. Unable to restrain herself, tears flowed freely from her eyes, and she began to sob loudly.

"I'm sorry, Father! I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I promise!"

She felt her father's hands pressing harder on her cheeks, almost painfully.

"Look at me! LOOK AT ME!"

She obeyed. All of a sudden, in front of her, it was not her father's face, but an angry burned face with steel grey eyes. She blinked, and he was her father again.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you ask Clegane to go with you?"

"Because I didn't wanted to!" she finally cried, before gasping and clapping her hand on her mouth.

Ned frowned and stared intently at her.

"Why? You don't feel safe with him?"

Sansa shook her head.

"What is it, then? Are you afraid of him?"

Turning her gaze towards Sandor, Sansa could see his impassive face. But, in his eyes, it was a mix of fury and hatred.

 _It's his fault_ , she thought. _It's because of him that father his yelling at me. It's his fault if I ran away without him. I don't want him to be my sworn shield anymore. He's mean and vulgar. I hate him. I'll force father to send him away, and then, I'll be rid of him. He'll see that I can be better than him at this…_ game _he plays._

Raising her eyes up to her father's, she heard herself say:

"Yes."

* * *

 _ **Lannisters everywhere! And Sansa's getting mean. You probably know what will happen next. Here's a clue : Read the summary :3  
**_

 _ **I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**_ _ **Don't forget to leave a review :D**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello !**_

 _ **After almost a year, I've finally managed to write the 5th chapter of this story. I hope there are still people reading it :P**_

 _ **Disclaimer : I owe absolutely nothing. The whole universe belongs to the great George R. R. Martin. Also, my story is based on a video I've watched on Youtube; The Sworn Shield, by**_ **harrypfanmcc. _Here's the link to the video so you can picture where I am going with this : /watch?v=3zV4y5v9tvU_**

 ** _English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy :)_**

* * *

 **The Sworn Shield**

 **Chapter 5**

 _ **Sandor**_

He was standing in front of the Little Bird's room, his fist mid-raised in the air, unsure if he should knock or just burst into the room. The sound of her cries told him that the latter wouldn't be welcomed. Inhaling deeply, he knocked twice on the wooden door.

The sobs stopped at once, but he could still hear her sniffle, clearly struggling to control herself. Her voice now hoarse from crying raised from behind the door.

"Who is it?"

"The King's waiting for you." He rasped.

He could hear her sharp intake of breath. Then, her soft steps approached the door slowly, hesitantly.

"Would be best to hurry, girl. You shouldn't make him wait too long."

He heard her walking faster towards the door and sighed. _Good girl._ The door opened and the girl stepped out of her room. Her hair was braided and pinned up in that ridiculous Southern hairstyle. She wore a simple pink gown, with long sleeves. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she kept her gaze on them. Even with her eyes lowered, Sandor knew they were puffy and red, accentuating the blue of her eyes. It felt wrong to find her beautiful in her misery.

Turning around, Sandor began walking, the Little Bird following dutifully behind him.

.

A lot of things had changed in the past few months. Sandor could still remember that morning when he had woken up, and found the girl's room empty. He had searched for her everywhere in the castle, scaring a few handmaidens with his angry curses and shouts. Lord Stark was alerted immediately, and asked Sandor what was happening.

Trey, Sandor's former squire, had bumped into them, breathless, and told them that Sansa's horse wasn't in the stables. _Stupid girl,_ Sandor had thought at the moment. Ned seemed to think the same thing, though there was also great fear beneath his anger. It took a few days before Sandor finally admitted to himself that he'd been a bit scared too.

When they'd found the girl, safe and sound, Sandor was angry, and the sentiment of relief that washed over him made him angrier still. And when she uttered that lie to her father, it was too much. Spiting on the ground, he'd turned his horse and rode fast until he reached Wintertown. There, he'd found himself a good drink and a clean whore. Only after their coupling did he realized that the whore was a red-head.

He'd almost threw her off the bed, had dressed up quickly, had tossed her the coins she asked, and had strode out of the inn without a second glance. Back at Winterfell, he'd locked himself in his room with three skins of Arbour wine snatched furtively from the kitchen.

Despite being winesick, the morning after he'd found himself in the training yard, fighting with the men as fiercely as he'd done before, if not more. It was then that Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, had proposed a duel between them. Sandor had accepted.

The crowd around them had grown by the minute, and soon, the Starks and the Baratheons were there as well. One person had been missing, Sandor had noticed bitterly. _The Little Bird._

He'd tried not to think about it, and instead had focused on his opponent, whom, he had to admit, was pretty good. Jaime Lannister was a renowned knight, while Sandor was an experienced warrior. They both knew their art very well. At the end, there was no winner.

While fighting, he'd seen how the King looked at him with great interest. He often leaned towards Ned, speaking to him in ushered voice. Sandor hadn't paid much attention to it, more focused on parring his opponent's blows and returning them. The morning after, he was released from his duty as the Little Bird's sworn shield, and became Joffrey's, instead. He would be paid handsomely for it, so he'd accepted. He didn't knew then that his new charge would be worse. A fortnight later, they were on their way to King's Landing.

On their way south, Sandor had realized that the Little Bird was determined in making everyone believe that she was actually afraid of him. He had approached her once and she had gasped loudly, recoiling from him. Joffrey stepped forward and told him to back off. It was the first time he called him Dog. Sandor didn't miss Sansa's smile of triumph as he bowed to the prince and strode away. The girl wanted to be afraid? Fine. He would give her reasons to be.

He started drinking and whoring more. He kept barking and snarling every time he had to talk to her. One day, he realized that her fear was becoming genuine. _Stop pouting, Little Bird. Isn't that what you wanted?_

Too preoccupied with the Little Bird's behavior and his new charge, Sandor didn't notice the danger in which Eddard Stark was putting himself into. He saw it too late, the day he was put in the black cells, a short time after Robert's death. One day, the Spider had come to him and summoned him to follow him without any further explanation. He'd told him it was important, but didn't say more. When they had got in front of Ned's cell, the mistreated man clung to his sleeves desperately.

"Clegane, please, I know I don't have any more gold to give you, but please, tell me you'll look after my daughter. I know that she lied that day in the Wolfswood. I know my daughter. She doesn't fear you. She was upset, that's all. Why? I don't know, but that was enough to make her lie to me. Forgive her and take care of her, I beg of you. It would ease my mind to know that a man like you is looking after her."

"You mean an ugly brutish old dog?" Sandor had snorted.

"I mean a man brave, and gentle, and… And strong." At those words, he gave Sandor a strange look.

Sandor spat on the ground. "I'm none of those things. I'm not a bloody knight. But, aye, I'll look after the Little Bird as much as I can. I don't promise anything, but I'll try, for her sake." Despite his harshness with the girl, Sandor still felt the need to somewhat protect her.

Ned muttered his thanks, and laid his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He seemed tired, the poor man. Sandor felt pity for the first time in his life.

"We will let you rest now, Lord Stark. I will come back tomorrow to give you more water and to give you news about your youngest daughter, if there are any." Said the Spider.

Ned Stark never got the chance to drink the promised water, nor hear the news. The next morning, in front of the Great Sept of Baelor, he was beheaded. And the Little Bird started her descent into the Seven Hells.

.

As he walked swiftly towards the Throne Room, Sandor could hear the Little Bird sniffle behind him. Sandor slowed down, and turned around to face her. As her eyes were still downcast, she almost bumped into him, but he stopped her from doing so by placing his hands on her arms. Startled, the girl raised her eyes and gazed into his.

The poor girl was given no time to mourn her loss, Sandor thought bitterly. She didn't deserve any of what was happening to her, right now.

The Little Bird was still gazing up at him, her red eyes confused. "We shouldn't make His Grace wait. I don't want him to get upset," she said shyly, wringing her hands. "Can we keep walking?"

 _The girl's right._ Sandor let go of her arms suddenly as if he'd been burned. He hesitated a second before turning around and resuming his walk.

As they approached the Throne Room, Sandor could hear screams of pain coming from it. _Another fool who missed his chance to shut the fuck up_. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Little Bird slow down, alarmed, her whole body stiff. As the doors open to let the guards drag the bleeding man away, Sandor positioned himself in front of Sansa, sparing her the awful view. Then, Joffrey, accompanied by Ser Meryn, strode out of the Throne Room, cursing.

"That cunt thinks she can make me wait. I'm King now, and she must do as I bid. Fucking bitch!"

Clenching his fists, Sandor stepped aside and cleared his throat, reveling Sansa hidden behind him. Joffrey's angry expression faded, and was soon replaced by an excited one. He seemed to relish in her misery, the sick bugger.

"Ah! Lady Sansa. You look lovely, today." He mocked.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She replied in that soft submissive voice of hers, as if she hadn't heard him insulting her.

Joffrey waved his hand and strode past her, Meryn Trant following closely after him. "Come. There's something I want to show you."

The Little Bird stayed rooted on the spot. Sandor stepped closer to her and placed a hand at the small of her back, pushing her gently. "Do as you're bid, child."

Instead, she raised her eyes to his, looking into them without fear. No, there was no fear. But there was despair and sorrow. Her eyes seemed to scream to him _Help me!_ But there was naught he could do. He was Joffrey's Dog, now. _But you promised her father._ No. He hadn't promised anything.

 _I want to help you, Little Bird. I just can't. I fucking can't and it bloody well kills me, girl._

Something seemed to change in her. She raised her chin, straightened her back and folded her hands in front of her. Sandor watched her in amazement standing tall and proud despite her pain. Her eyes stopped glistening with unshed tears, and she followed the King, Sandor behind her.

Only later did it occur to Sandor that he had kept his hand on the small of her back during the walk, and she hadn't shook it off.

* * *

 _ **Here, we get to see Sandor softer side. He may seem a bit OOC, and I apologize for it.**_

 _ **The next chapter will be from Sansa's POV.**_

 _ **I hope you liked it, don't forget to leave a review to let me know :)**_


End file.
